


Bait and Switch

by Yessica



Series: Whumptober 2020 Yessica Edition [20]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Hurt/Comfort, Poisoning, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27151720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yessica/pseuds/Yessica
Summary: Athos drinks something he really shouldn't have.(Whumptober day 22 - Poisoned)
Series: Whumptober 2020 Yessica Edition [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949233
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Bait and Switch

"Come on, gentlemen, another round. Since the evening is still young."

Aramis put a new tray of goblets down onto the table, the beer contained within them sloshing around wildly and spilling over onto the wooden surface, though he was probably too drunk to notice. Despite all his bold claims, Athos knew his friend to be a notorious lightweight who could not hold his alcohol well, often finding himself waking up after a debaucherous night on the ground in an alleyway – or in more fortunate cases: embraced in the arms of somebody else's wife.

Holding his hand up to show he would decline, as he had done all the drinks before it, Athos watched the small frown form on his comrades' faces.

"Only one, my friend," Aramis said amiably, spinning the tray around on the table. "Courtesy of the ladies at the bar. Can't say no to that."

Athos begged to differ. Giving the two women seated near the front of the pub a glance, they seemed young and flirtatious to him, with their long skirts hiked up above their ankles and hair pulled down in loose curls. Even if they were his type – which neither of them was – he was not wont to take strangers back to the barracks with him. One of them gave him a wink and Athos turned his attention back to the table.

"Go ahead then," he said to the others. Porthos did not need to be told twice, grabbing the goblet nearest to him and downing a third of it in one go. In stark contrast to Aramis, he was much better at handling his liquor. D'Artagnan was a slow drinker and still had half of his previous ale in front of him.

"Surely you would not bear to break their hearts?" Aramis chided. Athos thought to himself he could very much bear that but did not say so out loud. With a heavy sigh, he accepted the drink pressed into his hands by the overeager Aramis.

"What even is this?" he asked, smelling the conspicuously dark liquid. There was a sour, not completely unpleasant scent coming from it but it did not look like anything they'd had before.

Aramis took a sip from his own. "Only the finest brew from Germany, I've been told. Fancy stuff."

"So perfect for you," Porthos said. "Drink up!"

Athos raised an eyebrow, but did not refuse a second time. D'Artagnan lifted his glass in a toast which the others happily joined. True to his word, the ale had a rich flavor, unlike anything Athos had ever tried. It wasn't bad but had a slightly bitter aftertaste he didn't really care for, being more of a wine man himself, which moved him to leave it half-finished. The others had no such complaints.

Porthos' goblet was already empty again and he let out a boisterous laugh at the way d'Artagnan sipped precariously at his own. They talked about affairs for a bit, including the criminal they had apprehended today who they had quite hilariously caught redhanded with his pickpocketing fingers deep in Athos' purse. With little way to tell the time, Athos could see how dark it had gotten outside through the grimy pub windows.

"We should head back to the barracks," he said as he started to get up. The statement was met with slight protests, but Athos barely heard over the wave of dizziness that befell him as he got on his feet. It felt like all the blood had rushed out of his head at once and he had to grab hold of the table to steady himself.

D'Artagnan was by his side in an instant, holding onto his elbow to help him stay upright. His vision was blurry at the edges, making it hard to focus and sickness had bloomed in his gut. The urge to puke was hard to resist, but Athos pushed it down harder still.

"Looks like the poor fellow might have overestimated himself," Porthos jested, though Athos could hardly understand the joke through his own lightheadedness. He frowned, blinking to dispel the unclarity in his vision. Being drunk was not supposed to feel like this, and Athos had enough experience to know himself in that regard.

Something was wrong.

Just as he opened his mouth to say as much, his legs gave out under him. Even with d'Artagnan holding onto him Athos felt himself collapse, nearly hitting his head on the table on the way down. Some smothered gasps rang out in the pub and he could hear Aramis call out his name. Then he was on the floor, curled on his side and with excruciating pain running through him. It had spread from his stomach area into the rest of his body now as if it were caught in his veins. Screwing his eyes closed, Athos bit his tongue hard enough to taste blood.

D'Artagnan's hands on his shoulders turned him onto his back. Athos could see the worried faces of the others above him, clear that this was not just the alcohol taking effect. "We need to bring him to the infirmary," Aramis said, pushing his cold fingers against Athos' neck in search of his pulse. With the pressure Athos could feel his own rapid heartbeat running rampant in his chest. "He's been poisoned. Help me rig up a gurney."

"We ain't got time for that." With one quick motion, Porthos had pushed both his arms underneath Athos' armpits and hoisted him from the ground. The stirring sent another ripple of pain through him and he had to stop himself from trashing against the movement. Grabbing one leg each, Aramis and d'Artagnan helped carry him out of the pub.

The cold night air hit Athos like a brick, feeling icy against his feverish skin. He couldn't see much more in this current position than a faint canopy of stars in the Parisian sky and the buildings rushing past. He closed his eyes against the increased nausea this caused, knowing Porthos really wouldn't appreciate it should he hurl all over his boots. The darkness was a respite from the lightheadedness taken hold of him and Athos embraced it gratefully.

The last thing he was aware was of his comrades yelling out to the other musketeers for help as he was rushed back into the barracks.

* * *

Athos woke up at the crack of dawn. Most of the pain had subsided, though it had left a punishing headache in its wake. He felt weak and drained, completely exhausted despite being out for several hours. When he finally managed to gather the energy to raise his head and look around, he found his friends were still there.

Porthos and d'Artagnan had their wooden chairs pushed close together and both were fast asleep. Porthos was in an upright position and with his arms crossed – which did not look comfortable in the slightest - while d'Artagnan was slumped against his shoulder, a slight trail of drool running out of his mouth and onto Porthos' pauldron.

Aramis sat on his other side, still awake but seemingly lost in thought. When he finally noticed Athos was conscious, a smile broke out on his face.

"You gave us quite the scare, " Aramis said, softly so as to not disturb the others.

Swallowing around the dryness in his throat, Athos tried to sit up in the bed but couldn't find the strength to push up on his elbows. "What happened?"

"Poison, as we suspected." Aramis helped him into a seated position, propping the pillow against the headboard. They were still talking in hushed whispers. "You were lucky you did not finish the ale, or things could have been a whole lot worse."

"And the women?"

"Gone before you even collapsed."

He had expected as much. He could feel his throat ached with the force it took for his body to expel the poison, though somebody had taken the courtesy to remove the bucket used. With his physique and plenty of rest, Athos knew he would probably recover in a few day's time.

But he was certainly never going to accept a drink from a stranger again.

He told Aramis as much and his comrade laughed. He was the type of man who could chuckle wholeheartedly at danger after it had passed and everybody had emerged from the other side unscathed. It was one of the traits Athos could appreciate most in him.

"If it's any consolation," Aramis said lowly, "they were really trying to poison me. I unwittingly turned the tray around."

"That does not comfort me at all." Rubbing one hand down his face, Athos sighed deeply. "We will need to catch whoever is behind this before they make another attempt on your life."

"Easier said than done," Porthos commented from his other side, making Athos turn his head to his newly awakened friends. "Aramis has pissed off a whole bunch of people in his lifetime. Maybe it's a slighted lord or-"

"Captain Treville has already put some men on the case," d'Artagnan cut in easily. "I'm sure it'll be dealt with by the time you're recovered. Which is what you should be concentrating on for now."

"Right, let the old man get his rest." With those words, Aramis stood up from his chair. Athos smacked him against the elbow as he passed.

"Don't get in too much trouble while I'm gone," he said.

"I'll try to keep them out of it to the best of my abilities," d'Artagnan promised him.

Athos had a fair idea of how well that would work out. He'd have to return to health as quickly as possible before either of those three got themselves killed. But for the moment he just sunk back into the pillows, grateful for some peace and quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by rogue205 on [my Tumblr](http://sharada-n.tumblr.com/)


End file.
